


where does your heart beat (who is wrong)?

by callunavulgari



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Background Character Death, Blood and Gore, Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t tell you that he loves you. He doesn’t beg. He holds you. Kisses your brow as if in supplication. And when the sirens come, he leaves.</p><p>  <i>“I forgive you,” he whispers, and splits you open.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	where does your heart beat (who is wrong)?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for AkuRoku month. Kind of missed the actual day, but oh well. Iki-teru prompted me with [Let It Go by Blue October](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UTWw0lnXvY). I'm willing to bet that she didn't anticipate a serial killer fusion heavily inspired by the second episode of Hannibal's third season, but uh. So it goes. This was written in like twenty minutes and isn't betad, so if you see anything, give me a shout.

“I forgive you,” he whispers, and splits you open.

Your blood is warm. Slick. Viscous. It hurts, but not as much as you think it should.

He smiles at you. Gestures—

“I wanted to surprise you,” he sighs, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but his eyes look wet. There’s blood on his face. “And you wanted to surprise me.”

Xion is still on the ground before you, eyes wide open and dark, startled. She’d choked on her own blood, and he had watched you claw your way to her side, your own blood leaving a trail of slick behind you.

“Ah, ah,” he chided when you’d reached for her, settling his boot gently on your knuckles.

You watched her bleed out, helpless and gutted like a pig yourself, your heart in tatters. He’d watched you watch her, and when her chest was still, he raised you into his arms like a lover. Cradled you, his own hands pressing over yours, keeping your insides in.

He doesn’t tell you that he loves you. He doesn’t beg. He holds you. Kisses your brow as if in supplication. And when the sirens come, he leaves.

_“I forgive you,” he whispers, and splits you open._

.

The church is wide and rich with color, not quite his usual hunting grounds. Axel prefers the darker side of the world. Rain slick streets that he can make just a bit more lovely with a splash of red. A ramshackle old building that could use a few bones to liven up the place. An empty shoreline, no footsteps in the sand, save one.

The catacombs below are more familiar. Dark and musty, they seem to go on and on, leading you in circles, possibly to your death.

“What do you think would have happened?” you ask the darkness. “If we’d all gone together?”

The darkness does not answer. But it is still. Listening.

“You said that you’d made a place for us, but did you really? Would we have lived happily ever after, if we just ignored the bodies?”

You swallow, throat bobbing. Your scar itches. You ache to touch it, if only to feel closer to him.

“I loved you,” you whisper, so quietly that even the echoing chambers don’t catch it. You shudder, letting your arms drop to your sides. You drop your head, bare your neck. Close your eyes.

You lick your lips and try to ignore the disturbance of air to your left.

“I’ve brought you a surprise,” you tell him, holding back a flinch when fingers ghost across your bared throat. If you opened your eyes right now, you know that he would be there. That this wouldn’t be like the other dreams.

“Have you now?”

You suck in a sharp breath. Carefully, you lift the robe from your shoulders, and let it slide to the floor. The chill is unwelcome, but his pleased hum is well worth it. A familiar hand ghosts down your body — throat, clavicle, sternum, navel — and comes to stop at your scar.

The doctors had told you it was surgical.

Xion’s ghost told you that he’d wanted you alive.

It is ugly, dark purple and knotted, but you know that he will think it’s beautiful.

“And what is this surprise?” he asks, voice caught — heated.

You swallow once more, and dare to take a step forward. His arms come down around you, pulling you in when you collide into him. He is warm, warmer than usual next to your chilled flesh, and you wish he would take you to the floor.

“Me,” you whisper, letting your eyes flutter open. You blink— once, twice, three times, before they adjust to the darkness. He’s looking at you, calculating. You wonder if he’s thinking of breaking your heart the way you broke his. If he’s considering ripping it out, to match the crime scene upstairs. You think that at this point, if that’s what he wanted, you’d let him have it.

“You?” he breathes, arching an eyebrow. His voice is cold and uncaring, even as he pulls you in tighter.

You nod, and hate yourself for not realizing sooner. Maybe if you had, Xion would still be here with you. Maybe if you had, Axel wouldn’t have had to kill her.

“Me,” you confirm. “If you’ll still have me.”

He lifts his hand to your face in a gentle caress, a parody to the way he’d held you eight months ago. You brace yourself, waiting for the flash of a blade. Waiting for the pain. The blood.

Instead, you receive a kiss.

When he pulls back, you are breathless. His eyes are glittering.

“I will have you,” he tells you, and you smile.

“I forgive you,” you whisper, and he splits you open.


End file.
